The Intern (The Forbidden World Book 1)

by Garry Ocean

  “Looks like we are located in the planetary system Z-2, sector F-14056/0002, subsector A133. The star is of Group G2, and its planetary system includes five planets…”

  “Stop, stop, stop,” Nick interrupted quickly. “So, you say system Z-2, sector F-14056/0002, subsector A133? As far as I know, the navigation maps have neither system Z-2 nor subsector A133. There’s Sector F-14056, but there’s no subsector A133 in Sector F-14056. What do you say to that?”

  “You need to activate the access code to closed files. Please enter the password.”

  “What are you saying? What password?” Nick exclaimed angrily. “I am the commander of the Valkyrie shuttle, Board 103 on this flight. I have the authority to engage all systems of the ship.”

  “You need to activate the access code to receive full authority,” the computer said in a completely dispassionate voice.

  Nick was shocked. He had never encountered a situation like this before. But it was useless to be angry with the machine. “Let me try another approach,” he decided.

  “You have a block to access the additional files?”

  “Yes.”

  “And they can be activated only through the access code?”

  “Not only. There’s one more condition.”

  “Which one?” Nick thought that he was communicating with some retarded human rather than a quantum wave computer with a capacity of solving 10 to the 32nd power of tasks per second.

  “If the Valkyrie reaches subsector A133.”

  “People who had put the access codes to secret files were not stupid,” Nick thought. Most probably, they have estimated and calculated possible options on a special analytical super computer, which, as he knew, was many times more powerful than the on-board computer of his shuttle. Their goal was to prevent any information leak until the Valkyrie reaches System Z-2. And, he had to admit, they’ve managed to do so. However, in the millions of various scenarios they didn’t control for stupidity and recklessness of intern Nick Sobolev. And now they were all in a stalemate. The Valkyrie has successfully, one could say, reached subsector A. However, he had no access to the secret files and could not activate the program for which it was meant in the first place.

  “Umka,” Nick thought to himself. Of course, Umka could not read his thoughts, but its thinnest sensors were carefully reading the reflex movements of his vocal cords and translated their slightest vibration into words. “Umka, why don’t we try to hack the access code? We used to do it quite successfully...” Nick smiled at the memory. He remembered how, in the 8th grade, using Umka’s help to crack the password, he and Paul took his mom’s glider for a ride. In the tropical forests of Venezuela, on the tallest Earth’s waterfall – Angel Falls – there was a waterfall rafting competition. They were completely awe-struck by the sight of the extreme sports lovers who were falling down from a kilometer-high waterfall on self-made rafts. Since it was night in Moscow, they managed to return home unnoticed then.

  “If there’s a hacking attack, the Valkyrie will self-destruct,” Umka’s voice sounded as if from a distance.

  “Who are they hiding these secrets from?” Nick was dumbfounded. “To destroy this marvel of technological genius for nothing?” At that moment he did not think about how this would end for him personally.

  “The first topographic data from the surface are incoming,” a mechanical voice bolted him back to reality.

  “Project the picture onto the screen.”

  “About 10% of the landmass has been scanned with the possible identification of objects larger than 500 meters in diameter.”

  “Project onto the screen,” Nick understood that it will not really give him a better understanding about the planet, but he wanted a distraction from his gloomy thoughts.

  The screen showed a large sphere. Despite the fact that it was mostly white, which the computer used as a marker for unexplored territories, there were also the outlines of the continents. Just as Nick expected, the South and North poles were where they were expected to be. They were covered with layers of snow and, possibly, ice. It was impossible to establish the size at this point, but he thought quickly that even in this respect the unknown planet was copying the Earth, as if teasing it.

  “A quantum resonance has been registered,” a mechanical voice pierced his ears.

  “Ah, at least something,” Nick noted to himself.

  “Did you manage to place the coordinates?”

  “Yes, I am changing the trajectory of Probe 3. It will reach this area in 18 minutes. In 19.5 minutes we will receive a picture.”

  “Can you say anything about the nature of this phenomenon now?” Nick knew perfectly well that a quantum resonance could be only of artificial origin, but he wanted to hear that from someone else.

  “The characteristics are resembling the bipolar quantum resonance with a one-way constant. However, the field creating it has not been registered.”

  “Simply stated, one more field unknown to our science,” Nick drawled. “Is it possible to determine if it has a connection to the cocoon field?”

  “Too little data,” the mechanical voice was cutting through the air. “The second quantum resonance has been just registered. The characteristics are similar to the first one. I am adjusting the Probe 2 trajectory. Estimated time is about 49 minutes.”

  “What does the scanning of the planet’s radio spectrum tell us?”

  “The entire ether of the planet, the whole broadcast range is covered with ‘white noise.’ The computer modulation shows, with 99% certainty, that the white noise is of artificial origin.”

  “Are they creating radio location disruption on purpose?” Nick tried to avoid any wording that would suggest the presence of sentient natives on the planet, but now the word “they” came out of his mouth by itself.

  “I am compiling the radio location map of the planet, it will allow for establishing the coordinates for all transmitters of radio disruptions,” the voice said monotonously and added without any transition, “A third quantum resonance has been registered. Probe 6 deployed. The characteristics are identical.”

  “What is it, the mushroom season started?” Nick exclaimed. He was alarmed by all these suspicious fields with their quantum resonance popping up here and there.

  “I did not understand the question,” and again without a transition, “a fourth quantum resonance. A picture of the first object is incoming.”

  One of the four screen windows stopped showing static. At first it showed just white fluffiness, and it took Nick some time to realize it was a close-up of the clouds. Then there were some gaps, and finally the clouds disappeared, as if blown away by the wind. Nick managed to suppress a scream. The valley had a tall and shiny, reflecting the sunlight, Cyclopic pyramid of a bright amber color. Despite the zoom in, it was impossible to tell if it was a monolith construction or just like an Egyptian pyramid it was made up of huge blocks. However, the fact that it was monstrous in size was obvious. Compared to the pyramid, the rare groves of trees, dispersed at its foot, looked like a low brush.

  “Look at this monster!” Nick exhaled. “What is its size?”

  “The dimensions of the object are,” the computer said monotonously, “height – 1,778 km; length of each side – 2,750 km, perimeter – 11 km. The square of the footprint – 636 km2.”

  “Enough with the size,” Nick interrupted, “What else?”

  “The given object is the emitter of the detected quantum resonance. It is also the source of the powerful ‘white noise’.”

  “This is what I expected,” Nick uttered, deep in thought, and added, “Is there any connection among the emissions?”

  “Has not been established yet.”

  “That is the ‘white noise’ can be just a side effect of the quantum resonance, and can be an independent targeted emission, right?”

  “Additional research is required. The second object’s picture is incoming.”

  The picture this time was a lot smaller: Probe 2 was at th
e outer orbit, but the picture was clearer. There were no clouds to obstruct the view. The entire screen was showing a vast snow desert. Right in the middle of it, was an exact copy of the first pyramid.

  “Size?” Nick asked quickly, already knowing the answer.

  “Exactly the same as the first one. Emissions are identical, too.”

  “I think the same will be with the third and fourth one. I wish I knew what they do.”

  “Not enough data. I am conducting the analysis of the quantum resonance direction. I will be able to tell when the exact coordinates of the third object are received,” and after a shortest pause, the computer added, “with a 5-percent margin of error.”

  “What’s the margin of error now?” Nick was annoyed with the computer’s monotone.

  “15%.”

  “I am listening.”

  “I would recommend waiting for the Probe 6 report. It will reach the destination in 37 minutes.”

  “Nevertheless,” Nick repeated with a childish obstinacy.

  “The quantum resonance vectors with 15,7% of margin of error suggest the LaGrange points…”

  What happened next quickly turned into a crazy kaleidoscope of events. Nick hardly managed to realize the importance of this information as the emergency alarm started to wail.

  “Probe 1 has been destroyed. Probe 2 has been destroyed. Probe 3 has been destroyed,” the voice was reporting in monotone.

  Nick was struck to see how the screens went dark one after another. The fourth one finally went dark as well.

  “Coordinates and the type of attack!” he commanded automatically.

  “These are impulse attacks, ‘space-to-space’ type,” and as always, with no transition, “We are under attack.”

  The central screen shook violently with the shuttle’s rattle. Nick automatically fastened the anti-gravitational belts, and the next second the Valkyrie started to take violent hits. All seams of the ship were weeping and wailing. As if someone huge were banging the shuttle’s body with a gigantic hammer, and with each hit the Valkyrie was thrown in different directions. Then the ship started to rotate like crazy, as if it were a small piece of wood being sucked by a whirlpool. All free-standing and unpinned objects were thrown off of their places and started to fly randomly around the cabin, hitting and breaking each other on collision. Nick’s instincts told him to gather together, the seconds seemed to have stretched endlessly, and the reality froze. He heard the speakers slowly, as if stretching the words by each letter, say in the same monotonous voice of the on-board computer:

  “E-vaa-cuu-aa-tion, im-mee-di-ate ee-vaa-cuu-aa-tion.”

  Before the seconds returned to their normal pace, Nick ducked from a heavy crane flying into his face and the next moment he felt the chair changing its shape and falling somewhere down. Free fall lasted only a second, and then he was crushed by an unbelievable pressure. Before he lost conscious, Nick managed to marvel at the speed that the Valkyrie gave the rescue capsule on departure. The anti-gravitational belts were capable of cancelling the pressure of only up to 30 g.

  The Valkyrie turned into a flaming blinding ball with fiery tentacles that were trying to catch the prey desperate to get away. But the very next second they started to curtail and retract. The ball changed its color into crimson red, started to reduce in size and then disappeared in one last implosion without a trace.

  Nanoseconds before the shuttle’s death, the on-board computer had made the only correct decision. By channeling the remaining energy to the hyper-engine, it created a hole in the space that sucked the entire power of the energy blast attack like a wormhole.

  But Nick didn’t see any of this. His rescue capsule was speeding toward the third planet.

  Chapter 3

  The hunters were moving silently. They were exhausted but no one suggested taking a break. The forest was far away now, but the feeling of its heavy eye on them continued to drive the people to move farther and farther away from it. Only five of the fifteen experienced hunters managed to survive. And one of the survivors was on a stretcher now, with the others solemnly carrying him.

  Sith was carrying the stretcher in the back, trying to keep the pace in sync with Ron’s wide stride. Sith was so tired all his muscles were aching, and his numb hands simply clutched the handles. The wounded hunter was a big man. But Ron’s back in front of Sith expressed so much disdain, even hatred, for physical hardship, that Sith only clang to the rough stretcher handles tighter.

  “I’ve done everything right,” he thought, again and again remembering the recent events. “Just like Whisperer taught me.”

  However, a feeling of unexplainable anxiety would not leave him for a second, from the very day when the Guardians’ courier showed up in their village. Even though he should not have worried, on the contrary they were supposed to jump for joy because the Guardians turned with the request to their town. It did not happen that often.

  Last time it happened was about a year ago. The Guardians, for a reason known only to them, needed a female warthog. The hunters then were tracking her down for almost two weeks. They did not manage to bring her back alive, but that was clear from the beginning, the beasts do not live for a long time outside of the Forest. But, as Ron said, the Guardians were pleased nonetheless. Turned out the female was pregnant.

  This time, every hunter received as a present a foot-long metal knife, and Ron, being the elder, also got a seedling of a drunken tree. It made excellent table wine, for the pleasure of every adult male in the town. However, less than a month later the tree got sick. Either from over-consumption, or, as some men suggested in whispers, of the hands of Ron’s new girlfriend, who quickly got fed up with nightly celebrations and parties.

  Most of all, Sith loved the stories of hunters who visited the City. It was his big dream. No, of course he could not live there. He never even thought about that. He just wanted to get a glimpse of the City. This is why, when the Elder told him and Whisperer about the Guardians’ new request, Sith was torn apart. This time, they were tasked with finding and bringing back a mycelium. And for it not to die on the way, they were given a box, layered inside with live moss. Whisperer referred to the box with a strange word, “container.” The Elder added that the Guardians were keen on getting the mycelium and would be particularly grateful this time. They even hinted that they’d put the same request to several other villages located on the south side of the Forest. So they really had no time to waste.

  Whisperer then asked Sith to leave, and had a long argument with the Elder about this behind closed doors. By the phrases Sith managed to overhear, he realized that Whisperer was against the assignment. Sith only heard bits and pieces of the conversation, with Whisperer saying, “the Dominion’s Eye is getting bigger, the fungal spores are very active now… the Exodus is near… everything is clear even without this mycelium… we’ll have to go deep into the Forest… let the southerners do this… greed is not a good driver…”

  In response, the Elder’s low voice was saying, “Today as never before we need the Guardians’ grace and goodwill… I will give you the best hunters… don’t exaggerate… how much longer are you going to protect him?”

  When, finally, the Elder came out from the yard, all red from the heated argument, and Whisperer silently waved to Sith to come up to him.

  “Sith, my boy, sit down next to me,” said the teacher in a tender tone Sith heard for the first time ever since he started his apprenticeship. “I can tell you’ve overheard our conversation.”

  It was impossible to lie to Whisperer, Sith sometimes felt as if the old man read his mind.

  “I will tell you right away that I don’t approve of our Elder’s idea. But the Exodus is near and we need the grace of the Guardians now. I can’t argue with that. I would go with the hunters to the Forest myself, but we need to find the mycelium before the decade ends. And I am not as fast as I used to be.”

  “I can go, I know the way to the Mirror Lake,” Sith began.

  “D
on’t interrupt me,” Whisperer continued softly. “Yes, you are right, that is the best place to find a ripe mycelium at this time of the year. But it’s not that simple. Believe me, the Guardians wouldn’t have turned for help to both us and the southerners. As you know, they are master hunters, not worse than we are.” The old man was silent for a second, thinking. “And then it’s not even really about them,” he continued. “What do you know about mycelia?”

  “Mycelia are mycelia,” the boy answered without hesitation. “Well, they also have smokesters growing on them,” Sith smiled at the memory of feeling he enjoyed from stomping on those yellow balls. They would burst under your feet with a melodic sound, letting out yellowish smoke. The smokesters presented no danger, but they were of no use for people either.

  “I see,” Whisperer sighed. “No time to explain now, and you won’t understand anyway,” he made a preventive gesture with his hand, stopping Sith from trying to dissuade him.

  “You want to go, don’t you? You are really keen on getting to the City?” Sith blushed at his teacher’s words. He didn’t even suspect that the old man could read his mind about his long-time dream. “Youth, the young are all the same,” the old man mumbled, pulling on his beard. It was a sure sign that the old man was nervous. Sith knew this well from the years he spent in schooling. “All right, so be it then. Listen carefully to what I say and remember everything. And let the Dominion bless you!”

  Now, bathing in his own sweat and moving his feet with great difficulty, Sith tried to remember the moment when he felt that something had gone wrong.

  They reached the Mirror Lake just as they had planned, on the fourth day. They had no adventures on the way. If you don’t count the incident when Valu set on a rotten tree stump to lace up his loose sandals and did not notice that the stump was infected by a poisonous moss. Sith had to rub medicinal cream onto his buttocks while the other hunters were teasing them with racy jokes. Valu endured this patiently, although Sith knew from his own experience that the pain from the poisonous moss burn was no joke.